All of that. Of The Past. Of The Future. Of The Present.

The Porcupine. The rest of the stolen “war” he-women, he-children, and he-men from The Salaga Market, “the lower-caste leftovers,” he aloofly called them, he The Porcupine sold them to The Cottonians in exchange for broken mirrors, bootleg alcoholic beverages, and rickety arms, tools he used to carry out his deadly slave-raiding and Grasscutter-dung-plundering expeditions on his friendly and accommodating neighbors’ fields. In point of fact, the great master storyteller, one of Africa’s leading griots of moral truth-telling, Ayi Kwei Armah, Prof. Kofi Awoonor’s buddy-buddy, describes these moral indiscretions on the part of The Porcupine in his novel “Two Thousand Seasons,” a book banned by The Porcupine in The Empire of Hollow Emptiness. Oh that! The Porcupine, it had turned out, was averse, intellectually allergic, if you will, to moral truths.

Certainly, political morality was not his thing, his preserve, his bailiwick. What kind of a social animal was The Porcupine, an empire of political animalness? Selling his own lookalike ethno-animals to his near-non-lookalike others for a pittance of a lifetime of social and political shame, for a stinking piece of historical indignity, and for a flowering ash of reverse ethno-animalism, ethnocentrism, that is, was stinkingly abominable, stingingly objectionable! That was the wicked nature of The Porcupine, that physical she-ness of cowardly sheepishness! Even his blazing greed knew no bounds, pushing, pushing, pushing, tearing past the nebulous vaginal-hymen of the Milky Way, not his vaunted ant-like intelligence of nothingness.

Oh that! The Porcupine, a-spiritual hominid of hollow emptiness, was known, that is, proverbially, to have sold his mother, his father, his brothers and sisters, his grandparents, and his children for trinkets of broken mirrors and bootlegs of poisoned schnapps. Those Idi Amin-like autocratic Ofori Atta 1 and Ofori Atta 11 of Kleptomania, that servile State Attorney General Sir JB Danquah of Kleptomania, giving the Okyeman people’s money to their colonial masters during World War 1, so-called, to reinforce the brutal colonization of others and of themselves, those crazy she-lovers of he-colonialism, of self-devaluation. Oh them, those lovers of autocratic democracy. True democrats of political dogishcracy!

Of Sir KA Busia, himself a devious political animal of unparalleled swollen lipped-ness, joined the confused fray of slave-raiding Grasscutter dung-cracy under the pretext of appropriating and introducing liberal demon-crazy into the body politic, and yet what became of Fela Kuti’s demo-crazy and colo-mentality as far as the un-African a-Personality of Sir JB Danquah and Sir KA Busia went? Yet, the entire gargoyled visage of The Porcupine, it also turned out, had come into The World of Confucianism, of moral confusion, masterfully shrouded in the psychological genomics of The Kleptomania. The Kleptomania, of himself, that is. That? Of course. His was an Empire raised upon a solid foundation of Ethnocentrism and of Kleptomania, of slave raiding and plundering of other living creatures and thence selling them off to The Cottonians.

That? Again? Oh the she-ness man of The Future, of The Present, of The Past. The Porcupine. I and Methinks. Of himself, The Porcupine had a very low opinion of himself, hence his “superior” inferiority complex. He laughably called that contrived inferiority complex of his, his imported demon-crazy, a superiority complex of self-debasement. What? That. I and Methinks once asked of The Porcupine, of himself: “Why were you so wicked and so greedy, Brother Wickedness and Sister Greediness, to the extent of selling your own children, your parents, your grandparents, your nieces and nephews, your entire family to The Cottonians for material emptiness, for spiritual hollowness?” No response.

The evil nature of The Porcupine. That Ethnocentrism! That Kleptomania! That Ethnocentrism was Kleptomania! That Kleptomania was Ethnocentrism! That ethnocentric Kleptomania! That Kleptomaniac ethnocentrism! Mirror likeness of fraternal a-culturalilty. Mother Teresa in love with Adolf Hitler. Idi Amin in love with Jesus’ Mother Mary. Osama bin Laden in love with President Barack Obama’s Yaa Asantewaa. Omar a-Bashir in love with Apartheid. Charles Taylor in love with Prison Life and Blood Money. Sir JB Danquah and Sir KA Busia in love with the CIA and M16. George W. Bush in love with the English Language. Was that not a world of demo-crazy? Sort of. Yet that was the kind of rusty tin-sardined world Sir JB Danquah and Sir KA Busia, The Porcupine, collectively, imported into the progressive world of The Scarab Beetle.

Yes, The Porcupine skillfully managed to skip the question of wickedness and greediness, then, as no one was looking, the cowardly she-man majestically stepped out of the staid cocoon of his pocket-sized mind, his neurotic brain, into the warm embrace of wintry nothingness, singing the national anthem of The Empire of Hollow Nothingness:

That Ethnocentrism was Kleptomania, what do you say?;

Our friendly enemies say we are hardworking stealing and thieving scallywags;

Our enemy-friends say we are Grasscutter dung eaters;

That Kleptomania was Ethnocentrism, what do you say?;

The world says we feed on a fermented sense of ethnic superiority, of self-delusion;

Our King has become a thieving presidential rapping-gangster of emotional monstrosity;

That Ethnocentrism was Kleptomania, what do you say?;

Methinks and I say we are a forest people of animals;

Of The Past. Of The Present. Of The Future;

That Kleptomania was Ethnocentrism, what do you say?;

Of That. Of I. Of Some. Of You. Of A. Of Today. Of An. Of It. Of The. Of un-ordinary situation of yesteryear…That!;

Quite grippingly, the Amerigo-Vespucci rapper KRS-1, the he-man nicknamed “Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everyone,” had an alternative nomenclature for The Empire of Hollow Emptiness. He fittingly, so fittingly, branded it The Grasscutter Dung-Eating Empire. He also concomitantly referred to the Empire’s national anthem as “The Ghetto Anthem” or “Self-Destruction,” after all, as the people had known, KRS-1, a conscious rhapsodic mouthpiece of the social and political downtrodden, had Komodo Dragon (KA Busia) and JB Danquah (Tasmanian Devil) in mind when he composed the militantly high-flown anti-nationalist, anti-patriotic, ethno-kleptomaniac lyrics and set them to the decayed rhythm of Danquah- and Busia-esque mis-consciousness, believing, quite rightly, that the stinking auras of the two ethnocentric leaders of The Nation of Lousy Monsters (NLM) glowed in the mud-puddle emotionality of plantation, crab, or ghetto mentality.

That was not that, however. It was simply that. Period! But then again, KRS-1 sneaked another powerful line, the “Mate Meho Bastards,” into “The Ghetto Anthem,” about that of the bastard-son of Father KA Busia and Sister JB Danquah, Geronimo Akwasi Afrifa, of the progressive organization, Afrifa Faces Reason & Commonsense (AFRC), which did moral justice to a reprobate inconsequential like Afrifa according to the social demands of public consensus and of popular sovereignty. Put differently, the AFRC exactly did to Geronimo Akwasi Afrifa what Linguist Baffour Akoto, Sir KA Busia, and Sir JB Danquah would certainly have readily done to him on the subversive cross of national betrayal—“mate meho” from the harmonious community of critical-thinking ethno-human beings, of commonsensical-ness.

That is, when Geronimo Akwasi Afrifa had faced the comeuppance-judgment of The People’s Firing Squad at the Teshie Military Range, in 1979 BC, the womanly cowardice of immoral she-ness, Akwasi Afrifa, screamed like a wounded chick: “All Die Be Die!,” yet still calling on The Scarab Beetle to come to his aid! What a Bad Conman (BC) of cowardly physicality? What had since happened to Katakyie Captain Planet, a she-man diaper-wearing virago who once believed to possess a concrete chest of he-manliness to overthrow The Scarab Beetle and to reset the clean hand of timely progressiveness to the unclean foot of untimely retrogression? What? That? Oh The Porcupine!

On the other hand, putting that historical aside aside, as it were, let the rainfall-story of the extinct Empire continue. That? Oh that? Posterity is asking. Now. Yes that! The ancestors had already responded. It appeared so. What was that? Meaning, in other words, the centuries-old rigor-mortis body, the ghost of a dead empire, they had been mourning had not been an extant empire entire, but rather an extinct empire of yesteryear, not a living she-empire of backward-looking tomorrow. That is? Then, why did they, The Porcupine she-men, shamefully betray the earthly Yaa Asaasewaa, while, simultaneously, shamelessly beating their fluffy chests and calling themselves he-men in the same fetid breath of psycho-emotional pettiness?

Reflection: Did The Porcupine have had to play The Signifying Monkey, The Kweku Ananse, and The Esu-Elegbara in the theatrical battlefield of Lake Bosomtwe, of moral and historical truth? Not necessarily. The reason? That reason? The earthly Yaa Asaasewaa reportedly had said to the overly-emotional he-men of yesteryear’s cowardly she-ness: “I must say this, if you, the she-men of Anti-Ash, will not go forward, then we will. We, the manly he-women, will. I shall call upon my fellow manly he-women. We will fight The Cottonian manly he-men. We will fight the last till the last of us falls in the battlefield.” All hell broke loose hence. The cowardly he-men of Anti-ash soon began calling, even perceiving her, thence merely as rhetorical witchhood of boastfulness, of clueless foolhardiness, essentially. “Like women, like men,” they say.

“The grinding teeth of history,” they say, “Is like pregnancy. Pregnancies do not hide like coward lizards and snails and sloths and ghosts of she he-men. They lead manly he-men and manly he-women as boldly and confidently as nose leads the face, not as timidly and servilely and obediently as shadow follows she-men and she-women when facing the light of truth and of openness.” That? Yes. The grinding teeth of history are here to stay. And stay they will. Should. Must. It turned out also that earthly Yaa Asaasewaa had made that declaration of war, that clarion call for social, political, and ethno-animal justice, even as her sisterly, motherly, and grandmotherly she-men, the masculine weaklings of the dead Empire of Anti-Ash, munched their way through social gridlocks of roasted Grasscutter dung and musty palm-wine blood of virgin girls whose innocent heads accompanied The King of Anti-Ash, The Porcupine, to the underworld of ethno-animal inferiority complex.

The war came like an unannounced downpour of rainy tears. That is, the warlike came. Eventually, they lost that war, the warlike “war” of The War of Self-Esteem, of The Battle of Ethno-Animal Supremacy with The Cottonians, a war which Prof. Jared Diamond, a Cottonian historian, described so vividly in his Bible of Books—“Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies.” And what was the secret reason behind their epochally-crushing defeat, their enduring loss of contrived “superior” inferiority complex? The womanly men of she-ness in the camp of Anti-Ash betrayed their martial he-women. In fact, even The Porcupine the First, their “war” or “warlike” King, was clandestinely in on it, as well, the betrayal, namely, Ghana’s and Africa’s Day of Shame. So-and-So and Today knew all the facts but chose not to breathe a word to anyone for reasons of collective self-preservation, their contrived “superior” inferiority complex.

The crushing defeat they, The Porcupine, suffered, would eventually culminate in The Cottonians’ capture of The Porcupine the First, a member of the fifth column shipped off to Sea-Shell Island, an archipelago of intellectual baldness located in the Indian Ocean—on the pate of The Porcupine the First. What is more, the earthly Yaa Asaasewaa and those other female he-chiefs who had seconded her clarion call for war and had ended up fighting with her to neutralize the political encroachment of The Cottonians, Sir Busia’s and Sir Danquah’s, also landed on Sea-Shell Island. Admittedly, while in exile on Sea-Shell Island, as had reportedly been acknowledged and consequently recorded by historians, The Porcupine the First secretly negotiated for his release from the prison of sizzling islandness with the leader of The Cottonians, the mustachioed Hitler of colonialism, in exchange for the female he-chiefs’ and Yaa Asaasewaa’s existential durance on Sea-Shell Island.

Sadly, in the end, the female he-chiefs and the earthly Yaa Asaasewaa would remain in permanent captivity, ultimately dying on Sea-Shell Island. Since then, The Anti-Ash Empire had become a moribund forested zoo where the royal stool—The Silver Stool of Lies—crown jewels, royal oath, and The Porcupine had been put on open display for public viewing. Notably, the mustachioed Hitler of colonialism was kind enough to even build The Man-She Palace, later the official seat of the cowardly Porcupine, in Kum-Asase, the phallic capital of earthly Yaa Asaasewaa’s pundic he-manliness. That was just part of the great story of Today. Of The Past. Of The Present. Of The Future. I. Methinks. You. So-and-So. The Porcupine. A. Some. An…

Yes. That. The Porcupine, a man-empire built exclusively from the psycho-cultural ashes of ethno-animal inferiority complex, found a quantum of solace in the ethno-animal superiority of ethnocentrism and kleptomania. “Ethnocentrism,” they say, “Goes with Kleptomania!”

Part 3 is already on arrival…